Monday, December 31, 2007

I'm on amoxicillin, right now, and will have to wait until I've finished the course before once more valiantly trying drink recipes for you, my dear and (mostly) nonexistent readers. What makes this more difficult is that I won't be able to drink during our annual New Year's Eve party, but that's okay: I much prefer not sounding like I'm breathing through an aqualung. It's a trade-off.

To hold you over, and to celebrate the holiday, here's Spike Jones' immortal classic: "Cocktails for Two."

Sunday, December 30, 2007

This year, like most years, Mrs. Wit and I spent Christmas Day at the home of some relations who happen to be Scientologists.

Growing up, I did not know much about Scientology, other than it was founded by a pulp-era sci-fi writer named L. Ron Hubbard and it had some side line called “Dianetics.” I never thought much about it until the early Nineties, when the church started pushing Dianetics through infomercials using washed-up celebrities (at the time it was some Whitesnake guitarist whose name I cannot remember) for testimonials. Just the red flags of “infomercial” and “celebrity testimonial” was enough to make me decide it was a scam and not worth paying any attention.

About ten years later I realized I was right about the former and ever so wrong about the latter.

I started dating the future Mrs. Wit and learned she had Scientologist relatives. The fact these relatives were in Scientology was a point of contention for a lot Mrs. Wit’s family members. I had met these relatives a few times and found them to be rather sweet, decent people, and wondered what the problem was. So I decided to investigate.

It wasn’t long before I found myself delving through the archives of Operation Clambake and learning things that troubled and disturbed me. I read “Bare Faced Massiah” and “A Piece of the Blue Sky” and began to wonder how much my future in-laws knew about this organization. I asked around and learned a few things.

For the most part, these relatives keep their involvement in the Church of Scientology rather low-key, as far as the rest of the family is concerned. Many years ago, one of them tried auditing my then-teenage brother-in-law for a mild basketball injury, which resulted in some terse words from my father-in-law. The subject of Scientology has been kept off the map since then, with one exception. A couple of years before I came on the scene, the Scientologists in the family distributed this book-and-CD combo titled “Can We Ever Be Friends?” It’s a direct appeal to the friends and relatives of Scientologists to accept L. Ron Hubbard’s organization as a “real religion” and perhaps even take a course or two. It also spends a good deal of time throwing down attacks against critics of Scientology. It’s pretty slick, from a marketing standpoint… but I was amused that any purported religion required anything like a marketing department to, well, justify itself.

In any case, holidays with the Scientologists tend to be quite normal: there’s a tree, decorations, ham, potatoes, etc. The only thing unusual is their house is completely lacking in books, save for several dozen leather-bound volumes authored by L. Ron Hubbard, prominantly displayed in their front room.

Here’s the thing: my Scientologist in-laws never seemed to behave like stereotypical Scientologists. They weren’t difficult to maintain conversations with. They weren’t anti-education (Scientology teaches you everything you need to know, supposedly, so why bother with college or beyond?), but rather quite for it; one of them wants to grow up to be a school teacher! They seem rather, well, normal, with the exception of once in a while trying to work L. Ron Hubbard into a conversation. I found myself starting to wonder if, well, Scientologists on the whole aren’t an all together bad bunch, they are just in the unfortunate position of belonging to a religious organization with questionable leadership and modus operandi. I mean, heck, you can say the same thing about Roman Catholics, right?

My opinion changed this past Easter. These same relatives hosted the holiday, and they invited some Scientology acquaintances of theirs to join us in the festivities.

Oh, my.

They were the real deal. Vacant stares as you talked to them. Loud questions regarding why many of my other in-laws were even bothering with college or grad school when they should be out there working. Children suffering from a complete lack of discipline (to the point where many of us were fearing for various breakables around the house). And worst of all, a complete inability to talk about anything other than the Church of Scientology and L. Ron Hubbard.

I realized that my in-laws are actually not stereotypical Scientologists. The kind of Scientologists that give them a bad name are certainly out there, however.

The moral of this story?

I just wanted to write something about Scientology. The Church of Scientology has a reputation for clamping down hard on anyone who says anything negative about it.Let’s see if they bother with my measly little blog. If they are the nasty terror everyone and their brother says they are, I’ll be flooded with Pro-Scientology comments and/or litigious threats (or worse).

Or maybe I'm wrong and they won't react to this measly little one-horse blog at all.

Saturday, December 29, 2007

We're cleaning up the house for our impending New Year's Eve party, and now we're heading out the door for a friend's wedding celebration dinner (she married in India, and this is the followup celebration in the USA).

So... I'll just post this to get by for today. I'll have a real post tomorrow. Honest!

Thursday, December 27, 2007

Wednesday, December 26, 2007

I had to get a chipped premolar repaired today (first premolar, the chip was on the lingual side - I'll explain how I know this if you're ever interested). Any time I have to see a "white angel" I always think of the following from the movie "Little Shop of Horrors."

Monday, December 24, 2007

Well, Mrs. Wit and I did watch "The Last Man on Earth" last night. Good flick. You should check it out. It's superior to the subsequent remakes ("The Omega Man" & "I Am Legend"), both of which replace the twisted climax of the original, which is stunning in its moral ambiguity, with over the top Christ allegories. The original was also made on a shoestring, but unlike the other two versions it manages to keep the tension aloft throughout the entire film.

But I digress. That's not what this post is supposed to be about.

We finished the movie and switched over to "In God's Name" on CBS. We came in half an hour into it. We couldn't finish watching the damn thing. And is was pretty much what I expected.

Imagine being locked in a room with a bunch of well-groomed marketing directors droning "God is Love" over and over again while the same piece of music loops endlessly in the background, and you get an idea of what kind of documentary this is: like "Santa Clause Conquers the Martians," it is a Cinematic Crime Against Humanity.

The first thing I noticed was the soundtrack. There were only three pieces of music used, and the were looped almost without pause. I did not recognize two of them. The third, however, was Peter Gabriel's "Low Light" from his album Ovo. I love Peter Gabriel's work. I own all of his albums. I try to catch his show whenever he comes through the area. But I was really getting sick and tired of hearing "Low Light" after 40 minutes! The filmmakers needed to spend a little more time on the soundtrack. Actually, it seems to me that if you have enough content in your documentary, a soundtrack score is really not all that necessary.

Speaking of the filmmakers, they spent an inordinate amount of time on camera themselves talking about how 9/11 inspired them to make the film, or having soulfully slow panned still shots of themselves with the various religious leaders they interviewed for the film. The whole time their attitude was to reverently declare something along the lines of:

"Everyone wants to know where God was on 9/11. Well, golly! He's everywhere! Look at all these neat-o keen-o religions and how wonderful they are!"

And every time a nod was made to religiously inspired violence, the various talking heads would inevitably declare: "But that's not real religion!" (With no backing, of course.)

And all these leaders were, of course, only shown to be the most pious mo-fos ever to walk the Earth. Seriously.

And, as predicted, the filmmakers did not even bother with skeptics, freethinkers, and other non-believers. That would have destroyed the treacly junk food they were presenting by introducing some intellectual nutrition into it.

By the last fifteen minutes, it had become too painful to watch. It switched over to a re-run of "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" to watch something equally fictional, but much more honest.

It's Christmas Eve, and I would have hoped we would have drawn something like egg nog from the deck, but no: it's the classic margarita. The margarita is mankind's ingenious answer to the ages-old question: "How do I get my date to choke down enough tequila for me to make a pass and not get slapped?"

Margarita's are also a favorite of Mrs. Wit's. Anytime we have Mexican (or faux Mexican, like tamale pie) she whips one together for herself... and once again, the recipe on the card differs from the one we tend to use.

So we tried it as written and once more... drumroll, please... we have another "cure for scurvy" drink! (Does the pirate talk at the beginning of this post make more sense, now?) It's not that the drink was bad. It was actually pretty decent, but tart: not quite what one would expect of a margarita. Think of this recipe as more of a "tequila gimlet."

Because this is supposed to be a margarita, I'm going to have to call this a "miss," but I only do so with a modicum of reluctance.

Sunday, December 23, 2007

I have not been sleeping terribly, lately, and woke up at about 1:15 this morning. I already knew it was going to be a while before I went back to sleep, so I decided to make the most of it by catching a really cheesy movie on TV.

I've already mentioned my love of Svengoolie in a previous post. According to Sven's Dec. 22nd post, anyone staying up until 1:00am would be treated to "Santa Claus Conquers the Martians." Anyone who loves bad film is probably well acquainted with this cinematic crime against humanity. This film is so bad that it is the only movie I am aware of my father ever walking out on. And my father will sit through anything. It's also notable for being Pia Zadora's first movie, as well. (If you don't know or remember Pia Zadora, don't weep. It's no great loss. Really.)

Here's a taste, if you have the stomach for it.

Well, I tuned in to watch and found... it was a rerun of the night before's "Frankenstein" broadcast! O Sven! What hast thou wrought?

I'm sure he'll never hear the end of this from his fan base. Serves him right.

I also like to catch CBS Sunday Morning from time to time. Today was a lucky find: a meditation on the importance of separation of church and state in light of the current presidential election campaigns. It's called "In God We Trust." I found it very even handed save for one small, but bothersome, thing: there was no concession that there are also non-beleivers like me, out there, but rather a tacit assumption that all Americans practice some form of faith or other.

Ultimately, the truth is this: if I am allowed not to believe, then you will always be allowed to believe however you wish. It seems so simple, and yet so many want to take that away...

There's also going to be a two-hour special on CBS tonight: "In God's Name." If the previews are any indication of the show's content, I'm not going to have the stomach for it, tonight: it appears to be a bunch of talking heads claiming region is anti-violence. According to the show's web page it's going to be nothing but religious leaders. No non-belief voice is going to be given even 10 seconds of air time!

If religion is anti-violence, then I guess the lessons of history (and most texts upon which many religions are based) are wrong. But only a holy man would have the gumption to make the claims made in the preview I saw this morning.

22 December: Apathetic Agnostic Resurrection - commemorates the return of the Apathetic Agnostic web sites to the internet in mid-December 2002 after a three week hiatus due to technical problems. (Meditation 81) This day following Solstice is appropriate because (at least in the Northern Hemisphere where we are based) the days are now getting longer.

23 December:Festivus - for the rest of us . Invented in 1966 by Dan O'Keefe, whose son Daniel, a writer on Seinfeld, introduced a family tradition to the wider world, and now everyone can participate in an airing of the grievances and in feats of strength

24 December: Agnostimas Eve

25 December: Agnostimas - a good day to exchange gifts with friends and relatives in a spirit of generousness, with no need to care about any religious overtones. But we won't object if any traditionalists prefer to devote the day to its original purpose - the worship of Mithras.

26 December: Boxing Day - the true origin of the name "Boxing Day" can only be answered with absolute certainty with an "I don't know!" And that is reason enough for agnostics to celebrate it. (If you happen to accept the unproven stories that the rich folks used to give the poor folks gift boxes on this day, then be happy about it, and make sure you give out a few gift boxes to the poor.)

28 December: Childermas - in view of the lack of any evidence to support the horror story of Matthew 2:16, a day to commemorate the inventions and falsehoods on which religion is based. (See Meditation 175)

29 December: Apathy Day - sated with the celebrations, feasting, and gift exchanges of the festive season, we take a day to relax, recover, and generally not care about anything. For tomorrow, we start partying again.

30 December: Friendship Day - to honor your friends and show the superiority of having friends instead of enemies. Created in reference to the pontifical decree Sancta Romania in 1317, in which Pope John XXII ordered the Franciscan Spiritualists to obey their superiors against their beliefs, which prompted the Spiritualists to become bitter enemies of the French pontiff by aligning with his enemy Louis IV.

31 December - Foundation Day - to honor the 1995 foundation of the Church of the Apathetic Agnostic and / or the 1965 development of the term Apathetic Agnostic, together with "I don't know and I don't care" as a personal statement of (lack of) belief.

Monday, December 17, 2007

Like last week, this week's drink is good as a cure for the scurvy, matey! (Argh!)

It's the venerable daiquiri, the quintessence of rum in yummy lime-based surgary goodness. But this recipe is lacking in the sugary goodness department. Like "Between the Sheets" it's chock full of tartness with a light alcohol bite. We both agree: it's too tart. I find it a good drink, but it's not a daiquiri.

Sunday, December 16, 2007

Mrs. Wit, the best thing that ever happened to me, turned thirty, today. (She gets to share her birthday with Beethoven, one of her favorite composers.)

And what did we do to celebrate?

A whole lotta stuff that makes her happy. And we actually started last night.

First we went to Mysore Woodlands, her favorite vegetarian restaurant, for a sumptuous and most flavor-filled meal.

Then we fought the wet, heavy, pouring snow to meet up with almost a dozen friends at one of my wife's favorite venues: the Baton Lounge.

After than fun (and, for many, confusing) revue, we fought the nasty winter weather to the greatest tacky tiki bar in the American Midwest, Hala Kahiki. We stayed there, sipping kokomo and chief's calabash cocktails until midnight, when she reveled in turning 30.

Then we made what turned into an almost hour and a half drive to get through the winter nastiness to get home and crawled readily into bed.

But the fun was not to end.... we just got back from the "actual" celebration of her birthday at my in-laws. We're tired, she has lots of fun little presents from friends and family, and we're glad to be home and ready to retire for the night.

But we still managed to make this week's cocktail. We'll tell you all about it tomorrow...

Saturday, December 15, 2007

Lot of talk has been going around about Mitt Romney's speech being like JFK's own defense for being Catholic.

Please.

Name me any candidate today who would have the balls to say the following, as Kennedy once did:

"I believe in an America where the separation of church and state is absolute; where no Catholic prelate would tell the President -- should he be Catholic -- how to act, and no Protestant minister would tell his parishioners for whom to vote; where no church or church school is granted any public funds or political preference, . . .

"I believe in an America that is officially neither Catholic, Protestant nor Jewish; where no public official either requests or accept instructions on public policy from the Pope, the National Council of Churches or any other ecclesiastical source; where no religious body seeks to impose its will directly or indirectly upon the general populace. . ."

Saddam Hussein was not a good man. He was a dictator. He was a tyrant. He was a genocidal maniac. But his governance of Iraq was secular in more than just name. In fact, he was the least evil and fanatical of the tyrannical genocidal dictator-types available. That is why King George I left him in charge of his country, even after Desert Storm.

Saturday, December 8, 2007

So I mentioned my Irish buddy for the last two entries. (Hey! That could be a toy! "My Irish BuddyTM!" New from Hasbro!)

Well, I am going to mention him again.

Some months back he told me about an acquaintance of his who runs an Irish-themed bar and restaurant, plays guitar and sings at this establishment, and for all intents and purposes could not understand how this individual is capable of making a living as a "professional Irishman" (as he put it). He was even more fascinated - and more than a little disturbed - at how great an audience there was for his acquaintances' establishment.

"C'mon!" I remember him declaring. "We're the (bleep)ing Irish! We're a bunch of drunks who've been the collective punching bag of a nation of inbred wankers! Who wants to be celebrating that?"

Well, that question got me thinking. That, and I had a long flight home from Seattle to contend with, so I tried putting my old anthropology training to use (that's my real background, not information technology - I picked that up after grad school) and wrote an off-the-cuff analysis of the American notions of ethnicity and national identity and e-mailed it to him the next day. I've decided it might be worth reading, especially to see how others may or may not react to it in comparison to My Irish Buddy (I may post his reactions if I get his permission), but also to see if I made any glaring historical/sociological errors in my analysis.

So here it is, warts and all. I hope you enjoy it.

By the way: while I still stand by my definition of "Constitutionalist," I have since regretted using that term. Here's why.

And another thing.... since I am presenting this "as is" and cannot guarantee its accuracy, I'm not providing any verification or supportive links. Check this stuff at your own leisure. At a later date I may (or may not) revise it and correct it.

-------))

[My Irish BuddyTM] –

Your statements about Americans and our obsessions with ethnicityreally got me thinking (dangerous thing). I find myself with nothingto really do on this long flight home from Seattle so I thought Iwould take the time to jot down some of my thoughts about the notionof the "American Identity" from a personal and anthropologicalperspective. You don't have to read this, and you probably have muchbetter things to do (sitting in your underwear watching TV?) butshould you continue… consider yourself warned.

And I'm doing this all from my head, so I cannot guarantee theaccuracy of some of the following material. In fact, just the factthat you did not have an American education leads me to believe you'regoing to find some errors in what you read here. But let's give this atry anyway, shall we?

The American RevolutionThe North American continent, especially what is now considered theEastern Seaboard of the United State was settled by primarily WesternEuropeans from the northern regions: the Dutch, the French, theGermans, and the English. Especially the English. In fact, by the timeill feelings began to foment among the colonists, all other culturalgroups had been subsumed by the English and homogenized into a fairlyrecognizable English-derived culture.

Thinking of ourselves as Americans did not happen, however, until theDeclaration of Independence came onto the scene. As we declaredourselves a separate nation and set up the temporary ContinentalCongress to see us through the transition (and the oncoming war), wedefined ourselves as Americans not so much by our ideals as expressedin Jefferson's document so much as the fact that we were no longerEnglish subjects. You read right: the earliest American identity wasfounded on not being British.

This is a very important distinction: after we won the RevolutionaryWar, the deciding factor for where one got to live – remain in the newUnited State of America or emigrate to Canada – was one of loyalty;did one see the Crown and Parliament as the seat of governmental poweror the Continental Congress and its eventual inheritor (first theArticles of Confederation and later the Constitution). It alwaysbothers me how this is not taught in American public schools: thetransmigration between the US and Canadian territories immediatelyafter the war, in terms of percentage of population, was not rivaleduntil India created Pakistan and had the Hindus and Muslims shufflearound. This was a big deal in which many people lost land and otherproperty, and many families irrevocably dissolved - and I'm actuallyreferring to North America, here!

The War of 1812 served to further this form of the American identitynotion… but it was not to last.

Colonization Practices, the Louisiana Purchase and Rogue SatesBefore I go any further, I must point out something concerning theremaining dominions under the British Crown after the AmericanRevolution. Those dominions fairly empty of natives (when compared to,say, India or Burma) were settled by colonists carrying the Union Jackwho considered themselves British subjects – for the most part. Thisphenomenon presents a flavor to their colonization and the formationof their eventual sovereignties that is completely lost on mostAmericans. You see, we Americans tend to think of the way we handledcolonizing (or "settling," in our historical parlance) the rest of ourpart of North America as "normal;" which is certainly not the case.

Unlike such Brit-derived nations such as Canada or Australia, wegained our independence early on and then became a colonizing force inour own right. With the purchase of the Louisiana territory formFrance during the Jefferson administration – for a whopping 2¢ anacre! How's that for a deal? – we developed a philosophy known as"Manifest Destiny." Manifest Destiny was the notion that the UnitedStates, as a nation, would eventually extend from the Eastern Seaboardto the West Coast; an achievable goal thanks the the LouisianaPurchase. Unfortunately, this notion also gave most Americans afeeling of entitlement, allowing them to rationalize the practice ofmarching in and displacing natives left and right for the purposes ofsettlement.

Sadly, but not surprisingly, the Federal Government turned a myopiceye to these shenanigans, which were in many ways in opposition to theideals of the Constitution.

Sidebar: the Federal Constitution is well worth reading, if you havenot already done so. If you haven't, you'll get to do so with [your daughter]when it's time for her to take her proficiency tests in 7th grade.Assuming you and your family are still in Illinois that is…

In any case the practices of the settlers and the hesitation of thedeveloping federal government lead to a disconnection of identitybetween the settlers and the notion of being "American." This was notsuch a big deal for states such as Illinois, which grew out of thesettlement of the Louisiana Purchase acreage: everyone submitted tothe statehood process without a peep because the land was explicitlyintended to be incorporated into the United States from the point ofsale on.

However, territories from outside this acreage (mostly stolen fromMexico) were another story. Would you believe that California andTexas were briefly their own separate countries for a while? It'strue! The California Republic and the Republic of Texas grudginglysubmitted to statehood out of necessity. They both needed help withthe damn pesky Indians and all the rambunctious displaced Mexicans,and the U.S. Army was the only force with the resources to dosomething about it.

But I digress…

The Late 19th Century/Early 20th Century Immigration SwellOkay, this is where things get interesting; which is to say, morerecognizable as what America is like today.

Starting in the 1880s the United States experienced an influx ofimmigrants for other regions of Europe and the rest of the world, mostnoticeably Eastern and Mediterranean Europeans, Chinese and, ofcourse, the Irish. The still relatively homogeneous U.S.A. exhibited arather passive-aggressive reaction to this phenomenon. On the one handwe accepted the gift of the Statue of Liberty from the French andproudly displayed its welcome sign proclaiming we wanted the unwanted,the "wretched refuse" of other lands. And as soon as we got them in weput them to work under horrid conditions in factories andslaughterhouses and shunned them as something almost worse than "theNegro."

Out of necessity these immigrants settled into neighborhoods they madetheir own. These became the famous ghettos of what is now yesteryear:New York's Little Italy, Chicago's Bridgeport, and the Chinatownsfound in various major metropolitan areas. These ghettos became thebedrock of the curious ethnic pride you seem to find so peculiar aboutAmerica, Mike. True, similar quasi-ethnically segregated communitiescan be found in other countries – like Toronto's well-known Greektown– but none have the same sense of ethnicity as being a link toidentity as one finds here in the States. This is due to a ratherinteresting thing humans do when faced with rejection by society atlarge: they will either change to assimilate into the greater whole orreinforce and take pride in their difference as a means of succor andsurvival. And this really has not changed all that much in theintervening decades.

The Great War (World War I)By the time things were getting hot and heavy in Europe during theearly 20th century, how "American" one was tended to be defined by howlong one's family has been in this country. This was usually deducedby the ethnicity of one's family name – unless it was Anglicized bychoice or by accident at Ellis Island. Of course, this only applied ifone was white. Black? Latino? Asian? Oh, Sweet Jesus, let's not evengo there!

As the war on the Continent progressed, the U.S. went into businessand charity mode. We cheerfully sold arms and supplies to all playersin the conflict. Also, plenty of 2nd and 3rd generationGerman-Americans were setting up charity funds and money-raisingevents to support the Kaiser's war effort. And no one batted an eye.

Well, when the U.S. entered the war just in time to mop up the mess(and look like heroes in the process), a small reawakening of thenotion of an American identity took place. Suddenly, German-Americanswere changing their names and/or shouting at the top of their lungs:"Hey! My parents were Prussians, but I was born here! I'd never getupset if some fat, inbred Hapsburgian aristocrat got his brains blownout!"

But this, too, did not last all that long…

The Great Depression and World War IIInterestingly enough, when the Stock Market crashed and brieflyconsidered joining a monastery, it was the ghettos that heldthemselves together better than the long "established" communities.Thanks to the rampant xenophobia experienced by the more recentimmigrant groups, they had stronger social bonds and were alreadyheavily community-focused than their WASP (white anglo-saxonprotestant) counterparts. Unemployment was still a problem, but fewerpeople went cold or hungry thanks to sharing of what was available.

The Second World War changed all that, of course. Once again, we wentin to clean up Europe, but this time we had Japan to contend with, aswell. This time, it was really personal.

As American soldiers traveled the various theatres of the war, theyfound themselves identified by others as Americans. NotGerman-Americans, not Italian-Americans, not Irish-Americans, butsimply Americans. Couple to this the use of the notions of theDeclaration of Independence – Life, Liberty and the Pursuit ofHappiness – as a focal point for Americans to rally around as webattle the fascist totalitarians (hey! Let's conveniently ignore thefact the Stalinist Soviet Union is our ally!) created again a renewedsense of American identity. This sense of American identity during theForties and Fifties is probably the strongest it ever was in mycountry's history.

And, once more, it was not to last.

The Cold WarAfter WWII, America became powerful, affluent, and on the move. Theghettos began to dissolve and the suburbs began to grow. However, youcan take the boy out of the ghetto, but you can't take the ghetto outof the boy. Our never-ending pride in our ancestral, pre-immigrationheritage still holds us. It was during this period that thedevelopment of ethnically themed restaurants with entertainment becamenot a novelty item for WASPs, but cradles of nostalgia for averageAmericans wanting to reacquaint themselves with "their roots." Nevermind the cultural practices of Italian-Americans do not reallyresembles those of actual Italians. Never mind that corned beef isoriginally a Jewish foodstuff. Never mind real sauerbraten would makemost German-Americans want to puke from the smell… it's all about whatwe want to think life was like for our ancestors in "the Old Country"and not think about the uncomfortable realities that drove them to ourshore in the first place. This, more than anything, [My Irish BuddyTM], is whatmakes it possible for your acquaintance to be a "professionalIrishman."

But let's get back on track.

During the Cold War we Americans came full circle with out identity.Now we defined ourselves as "not being Communists." Which was anunfortunate thing. It also meant the rest of the world started seeingus as one of two bullies on the block – the other being the U.S.S.R. –and sooner or later they would have to kow-tow to one of us.

But the Soviet Union collapsed. So where does that leave us today?

America is the New Rome, and We're the Only Game In Town (or so welike to think)

How does the world see us?In my opinion, the rest of the world, with some merit, sees usAmericans as fat, obnoxious, insensitive boors who own too much, wanttoo much, and use too much (SUVs and iPods, to name a few). We're seenas God-obsessed and power-mad, thanks to our current president, andnot that much better than "the Terrorists" in that regard. We alsohave an annoying tendency to not appreciate what we actually do havevia to the Constitution and capitalist innovation.

How do we see ourselves?If you are to believe the news, we're all down-to-earth folk witheveryday lives, values and problems. We are a people of great faithand great tolerance for those who are different from us, and we'reready to place our initial trust in our fellow man. Think "fresh-facedMidwestern farm boy/girl." In reality, it's our desperate attempt tokeep the Norman Rockwell mythos alive long after its corpse has becomeso much worm [manure].

How I see us.We are a nation that has always struggled to find our identitypractically since our inception. We still define ourselves by ourethnic heritage, which is best left behind so we may embrace ourselvesas Americans. I am guilty of this myself. I find it hard not toclassify myself as "German-American" first… which is funny since I canbarely speak German!

At this point in my country's history, I see two groups that could beconsidered truly representative of the "American identity." One isactively reaching for that title. The other, I feel, is much truer,but to disparate to ever rally for attention and mindshare.

Group 1: "Redneck Republicans"These people are ones you've seen on T.V. and seen all around the[local] area. The are hard drinkin', god-fearin', football-watchin',country-&-western-music-listenin', [poop]-kickin', "I love my country!"types. They to be rather ill-educated and ignorant, very involved intheir churches but not well-versed in the theology of their faith,like their toys and tend to vote conservative in politics. They feelthey own the title "American" and are as a whole disturbinglymiddle-to-upper class, Protestant and white. In other words, thedevolved descendants of the WASPs.

Group 2: "Constitutionalists"This is my own ad hoc term for this group.

These are people like me who feel the Constitution is only thing thatreally binds us together as a nation. People like me who feel theConstitution is one of, if not the most, brilliant governmentaldocument ever composed. We tend to think of being American as "someonewho has a duty to understand our foundational documents and protectthem from abuses." We belong to all walks of life and faiths (or lackthereof, in my case), and we tend to belong to watchdog groups thatseek to keep Constitutional abuses or disregards in check (ACLU, FFRF,Americans United, People for the American Way, etc.)

But in the end we're a minority, which is ironic in that we tend tovalue being Americans most of all. I also fear people like me are thenonly thing that's keeping this country from turning into the horrordescribed in Sinclair Lewis' fine novel It Can't Happen Here. (Lewis,by the way, was the author who stated that when fascism comes toAmerica it will be "wrapped in the flag and carrying a cross." Soundlike any politicians you've seen since coming here?)

Wrapping it up.If you've gotten this far, thank you for putting up with this rant.

Once again, I don't claim to be an expert, but you got my wheelsspinning, and I needed something to do during this flight. I ran outof reading material a while ago and if I look at another document for[my boss], I'm going to strangle someone. This gave me some much-neededdiversion, and I got to use my noggin for something other thantechnical or process issues, for a change, which is a great relief.Believe me, it really is.

I also wrote this because you seem to have a genuine interest in whatI have to say… Bog help you, on that one.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this, and I look forward to your reactionand comments at a later date.

Monday, December 3, 2007

An intermittent near-freezing rain coming down and churning the collected snow on my walk and driveway into a wet and heavy slush the color of lead. It was ugly work clearing it out, keeping it from turning into a thick crust of ice overnight.

With such cold, wet, miserable work, it was a happy coincidence this week's cocktail is the venerable hot toddy. A heady hot mix of liquor, sugar, spices and lemon. Just the thing on a miserable winter's day.

I had whiskey in mine, the wife chose brandy both were warm, tasty and comforting. So much so, in fact, Mrs. Wit had seconds!

Saturday, December 1, 2007

It's been a long day. I'd been hoping to give you all (are there any of you out there to begin with?) out there a long diatribe about "religious" versus "spiritual" notions, but the day got away from me (damn weather).

Mrs. Wit and I are snug in our PJs as the wind, ice and sleet howl outside our door. We're patiently waiting for that highlight of my Saturdays (when we are home): Svengoolie.

Friday, November 30, 2007

'Tis the holiday season, which means string musicians such as Mrs. Wit are out playing the various celebratory masses and (of course) the 10,001 renditions of "Messiah" that are played throughout this nation of ours. In fact, most musicians spell that Handel oratorio "Me$$iah" because of the important economic role this work plays in the lives of the classically trained.

Well, Mrs. Wit is out for the night to rehearse for a weekend performance of this work. I've decided to take advantage of it and make a special cocktail for her: the French Martini.

It's one of her favorites. Perhaps her most favorite after a classic gin martini with blue cheese-stuffed green olives. She hasn't had a french varient of this venerable drink in longer than recent memory, so I'm going to make sure she has one waiting for her when she gets home, later this evening.

Thursday, November 29, 2007

If God is willing to prevent evil, but is not able to?Then He is not omnipotent.If He is able, but not willing?Then He is malevolent.If He is both able and willing?Then whence cometh evil?If He is neither able nor willing?Then why call Him God?

The second, written by Hume (and my first exposure to the problem of evil), is a stronger formulation of the same argument:

"[Gods] power we allow [is] infinite: Whatever he wills is executed: But neither man nor any other animal are happy: Therefore he does not will their happiness. His wisdom is infinite: He is never mistaken in choosing the means to any end: But the course of nature tends not to human or animal felicity: Therefore it is not established for that purpose. Through the whole compass of human knowledge, there are no inferences more certain and infallible than these. In what respect, then, do his benevolence and mercy resemble the benevolence and mercy of men?"

I've yet to hear someone refute this without relying on the tired cannard of "Free Will." After all, even if we have free will, God should still be helping us if he is capable, omnipotent, all-loving, blah-blah-blah...

Monday, November 26, 2007

Campari, for those of you who don't know, is a form of bitters. But not just any form of bitters - it is the bitters. In fact, I find it almost improper to classify Campari in the same category as Angostura and Paychaud's. Campari is to those two what a sawed-off shotgun is to a pea shooter.

Yes, this is indeed the mother of all bitters... but it is extremely bitter. A dash of this stuff in your boomerang will completely overpower the other flavoring agents. Trust me. You wouldn't like it.

I'm going to put this one down as a hit; but it is a hit with qualifications: Campari is an acquired taste. The first time I tried it, some years ago, I found it quite strong, but nice. Mrs. Wit, on the other hand, found it absolutely disgusting. She even went so far as to describe it as tasting like "tobacco juice" (not that she has any experience with chaw). After a few years, she tried it again last night & was surprised to find she liked it .

Yes, it's an acquired taste, but once developed it yeilds great rewards.Scoreboard.Hits: 5Misses: 6

Sunday, November 25, 2007

Not just any beer, but real beer. You can keep your watery mass-produced quasi-pilsneresque lagers that were once the pride of Milwaukee but now come to us from every friggin' corner of the lower 48. You can keep your microbrews and imports to - and you know why?

Yep. The weather has cooled down enough where I can start up another batch of homemade ale (I don't have lagering equipment, yet. Can't justify the expense.), and this time I'm going for a tried and true stout.

I'd been toying with the idea of brewing my own beer for years, but it was not until my girlfriend (who is now my wife) bought me a starter kit for my birthday, one year. There's been no turning back, ever since. Every fall through very early spring I can usually crank out one to three batches (roughly five to fifteen gallons) each year.

For those of you unfamiliar with brewing beer, it's really no more complicated than making bread. And only slightly more dangerous. Brewing your own beer will not make you go blind, will not poison you and will not lead to a drinking problem.

Believe it or not, some people are under the impression anyone who brews their own must have an alcohol dependency issue. Trust me: at five gallons of beer for one to two months' work, homebrewing is not the way to negotiate your liver into a state of cirrhosis.

But home brewing does have its hazards. The one that readily come to mind:

Reeking Kitchen Syndrome.

If there is one thing brewing your own will do, it will force you to keep your kitchen sparkling clean. You have to boil what basically comes down to malt soup on your stove for an hour or more. The stuff boils over real easy and is a terror to scrub away if left to dry. That, and free-born wild microbes absolutely love the stuff. If you don't scrub down the kitchen thuroughly afterwards, you'll have a sour rotting smell permeating your house and you'll have to break out the bleach before your wife starts getting irritated. (Not that mine has ever gotten irritated; I just know some other homebrewers who are not as fortunate in the spouse department as I am.)

Okay, enough of this prattle! I have a carboy to sanitize and yeast to activate!

Eight years? How can this have been going on for eight years? Then again, I also can't understand how anyone could keep a conference dedicated to bigfoot going year after year.

Be that as it may, this is woo on a grandiose scale:

Though many deny the existence of the spiritual realms and the nature spirit/fairy/devic realm, the numbers of people who are tuning into these realms is increasing by leaps and bounds. The Fairy & Human Relations Congress is one of the vanguard events bringing these people together.

Ah, yes! A variation on the "so many people can't be wrong!" arguement combined with a touch of persecution complex. By the logic presented above, Scientology's claim of being a rapidly growing religion which is being unfairly treated by Germany must have merit! (Not! on both counts!)

Many humans, fairies, devas, angels and spiritual beings come together to create an outpouring of education and celebration. The fairy and devas who attend the Fairy Congress are spiritually advanced and very intelligent. We approach the fairies and devas with respect and love as co-creators of this event.

It is a rare event for humans to experience so much fairy energy and such an outpouring of fairy/devic blessings.

Participants are requested to tune into their fairy friends, angels and spirit-guides in the higher realms and invite them to the Congress.

We are all Light Beings and each of us has the potential to assist in the widening of communication between our realms, in cooperation with the great Deva Light Beings who work with all of Earth's plants, animals and life forms.

This is nothing more than a variation of turning to God and using the power of prayer to solve all problems. Rather than spending all that time and energy petitioning a temperamental spirit (or spirits), how about trying to figure out how to solve the problems ourselves? I mean, you can always credit God or the Fairies for your hard work and ingenuity afterwards, if it's really all that important to you..

Then again, I'm talking about applying logic to situations, a skill the participants in these fairy congresses clearly lack. For example, among the items listed on their "things to bring" page for the congress are such essentials as:

Make lists, plan ahead and five yourself enough time

Enjoy the drive

We are blessed

I realize I'm being nit picky, here, but these items make no sense alongside "water bottle", "crystals", and "items for fairy altar."

But then again, what should I expect? The people attending this affair are not of the most rational and discerning mindset. After all the managers of this website are also fascinated with "orbs", a phenomenon anyone who's spent even a modicum of time taking digital photography seriously has encountered, investigated, and found the quite simple explanation. Unless they need to believe, in which case they will insist on having found the spirits of the dead.

But what's really sad is, a lot of people either passionately believe in fairies, or think that this congress is a bunch of kooks getting together for harmless fun. Me? I just find it sad, and a little worrisome. I mean, the only real difference between this and say, a group of people building a new utopia based on a shared spiritual outlook, is time and sophisticated centralized dogma. Then again, that's the same difference between this, and say, a church.

I give this fairy congress group another five to seven year before one of three things happens:

It fizzles out

It splinters into two or more competing congresses due to "spiritual differences" regarding the nature of faries

It consolidates into a more formal organization, heading towards churchhood (in which case the splintering factor is not far behind)

Thursday, November 22, 2007

Today is Thanksgiving, and Mrs. Wit and I are preparing to spend the majority of the day with family.

It's fairly well known and understood that the earliest versions of what we Americans (and Canadians) would recognize as a "thanksgiving celebration" (note the lower-case "t" in "thanksgiving") where end-of-the harvest celebrations. Examples of such celebrations can be found throughout the world and across a variety of cultures. But in these United States, we are taught to believe that thanksgiving properly has a capital "T" and had its origins in the pilgrims expressing their thanks to God for all their good fortune, and breaking bread with the local Native Americans, who were gosh darn chummy with the colonists. Kind of gives you a nice nostalgic image of the two groups gorging themselves on turkey, maize and bread; after which the goodwives and squaws set about cleaning the dishes while the pilgrim men and braves, bloated and slowly sinking into a food coma, sat back to watch a lacrosse game.

Well, I want to look at what Thanksgiving is supposed to be, what others want us to believe it is, and what it has actually become.

What it is supposed to be.

The United States of America has had several proclamations of a "national day of thanksgiving," but as a proper holiday it did not exist until the FDR administration set it as the fourth Thursday in November in 1939. Prior to that, it was set by presidential proclamation... and such proclamations only happened sporadically until Abraham Lincoln set the last Thursday in November as a "prayerful day of Thanksgiving." After ol' Abe set the benchmark, the Office of the President has made an annual declaration of a National Day of Thanksgiving. All of them talk about how hard we have worked as a nation, about how we should show gratitude for what we have, and give thanks to Almighty God for what we have.

And I can deal with that. I can even accept the "thank Almighty God" part as lip service to the God Believing Voters out there. But what does it mean to be "thankful," which is the core concept behind this holiday of ours?

For an answer, I consulted one of my favorite online resources: Ask Oxford. Say what you will, the Oxford Dictionary of the English Language is considered the standard for definitions of words in what is arguably the lingua franca of Earth.

Oh, wait, sorry. That was just my normal reaction to having read two web articles written (ostensibly) by two Fundamentalist Theocratic Nether Orifices who, when you examine their theology in the cold light of reason, are not that much better than the Taliban. But I digress...

Okay, so Focus on the Family and CBN want us to kneel down to an ineffable omnipresent being who has had more personality changes than Sybil for the turkey, the sweet potatoes, and positive aspects of our lives.

Give me a break.

If we look at the definition of "thankful," above, you might notice something missing from both definitions: God.

I can be pleased and relieved today that no one in my family has died or suffered some tragic loss. I can also be pleased and relieved at the engagements and marriages in my circle of peers, and the births of gurgling babies to my more distant relations. But I don't need to drag God into the whole thing.

And I've already expressed gratitude to my wife for making the fabulous cranberry cheesecake we'll be taking to the table, later today. And I'll more than likely express my gratitude to her (again) for deeming me worthy enough to marry. And I'll be expressing my gratitude to my wonderful in-laws, and I'll be ever so grateful to human ingenuity for developing the agricultural technologies and practices that will allow us to overstack the dining room table and kitchen counters to the point of breaking. And again, I don't see how God has to fit into the entire equation.

In fact, I really appreciate no longer having the burden of imagining an eternal, petty judge looking down upon me and evaluating every move I make and every thought I have. I'm grateful most of all to myself for now being able to look upon the world as it truly is, warts and all, and find it a more beautiful and wondrous place than could ever be painted by pontiffs and preachers.

We, as a species, have enough holidays which we can use to thank God for whatever we want to thank him for, if we are so inclined. I'd just like to take this day to appreciate the good things in my life for their own sake, and nothing more. Yeah, the argument can be made that God makes all these things possible, but that's presupposing God exists. Give me a preponderance of empirical, independently verifiable proof of a supreme being who has cause over our lives, and then we can talk.

In the mean time, as for me and my house, we'll appreciate the people around us and the tangible and intangible things we can give each other: a smile, a hug, another dollop of mashed potatoes and gravy, unconditional love, etc.

What it has become.

Let's face it: Thanksgiving, like New Year's, is a more or less secular holiday in this nation of ours, despite the religious rhetoric contained in the various presidential proclamations. When we talk about Thanksgiving among our friends, relatives and co-workers, what do we really communicate?

Travel to see family, sometimes family that is geographically distant (usually for reasons of another kind of distance)

Having to deal with family you are obligated to see on such a holiday, but would otherwise ignore (see the preceding bullet point)

A big ass feast involving mass quantities of poultry and starch (how many of us call it "Turkey Day?")

If we can openly acknowledge - and, more importantly, accept - these truths about Thanksgiving, it will be much easier for us as a people to start making it something more, again. Something about being thankful.

Not thankful for some non-existent uber-daddy in the sky. But rather something more important. More here and now. Something we can reach out, touch, know is there and let it know how much we care.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

Some outfit named neo-fight.tv made a demo video for the Mangroomer almost a year ago (wow! This technology has been around for a year and I'm just now learning about it? I may have to hand in my technophile credentials!).

Bon appetite! And this will hopefully be my last posting on this topic.

Monday, November 19, 2007

We actually have a two-fer this week (yes, it's actually going to be a weekly feature now, rather than near-daily). The main drink, the pink lady, requires egg whites. Making this drink left me with a couple of egg yolks, and it seemed to me a waste to just throw them out.

So I did a search on that venerable web repository of cocktaily goodness, cocktaildb.com and discovered this weeks Bonus Cocktail, the bosom caresser!

Dimwit (Oracle and Seer), has been "teaching grandma to suck eggs since 1695." I like that! (Wish I thought of it first. Oh, well.) This particular Dimwit has been posting sporadically since September of 2005. Judging by the content, I don't think he'll mind co-existing with me.

The other Dimwit, however, has never posted to his blog.

Yeah, I know; I should have done a little more research before choosing that name, but "Dim Wit" just seemed a perfect play on words as my pseudonym for the Dim Age Diary.

Well, for future reference, if it's not the Dim Wit from the Dim Age Diary, rest assured it's someone else. You should check him out if you like what you read, here. We seem to share similar opinions on certain matters. I should see if D(O&S) wants to meet up for a virtual manhattan, sometime, and trade stories.

Until the advent of commercialized wine coolers, this drink is what made it possible for high schoolers and younger to get plowed to the point of puking without ever having to deal with that nasty, nasty alcohol taste.

It's fruity, sweet, and goes down smooth. Too smooth, in my book.

And for me, it's missing that essential for any good drink: the actual flavor of alcohol. I, personally, like it.

I'm going to make this one a "hit," anyway, because it is tasty and it will mess you up. And ain't that what cocktails are all about, at the end of the day? That, and goofy lounge music and hors d'oeuvres?

Yes, Mangroomer! The world's first do-it-yourself, extendable, electric back shaver!

No longer will you have to suffer the tortures of razor burn, nicks, ingrown hairs, or waxing to get rid of that rich carpet covering your dorsal section! No longer will you have to suffer the humiliation of insisting it's the approach of the full moon that has mad you hairy, not your genetic heritage! No longer will you have to spend endless hours pondering when the capitalist system will do something, anything, to bring men closer to the same level of non-body acceptance as women, which is what will truly bring equality between the sexes!

Yes, friends! Mangroomer is here! Just in time for the Christmas shopping season!

The quintessential tropical drink! And this recipe is actually pretty decent.

Note to tropical drink lovers: never trust a place that puts ice cream in their pina coladas. It's a crime against humanity and, I dare say, nature itself! A proper pina colada is made with crushed ice and derives its creamy texture from that most beloved of palm fruits, the coconut.

We're almost caught up, kids! Soon I'll only be posting one of these a week... unless we come across something truly special.

Friday, November 16, 2007

This was the first cocktail we drew from the deck requiring us to buy something to add to the bar. We already had brandy: the wife enjoys a snifter of it from time to time, and I am fond of mixing it with ginger all (something useful I learned from the James Bond novels).

Creme de Menthe, on the other hand, was something new for us. The only time either of us had ever really experienced Creme de Menthe was via Ande's Candies. I always knew it was a liqueur, and that it was used in various cocktails from more or less my grandparent's generation, but never actually tried it myself.

Well, we were quite curious, so we picked up a bottle. We purchased the white version of the liqueur rather than the green to comply with the recipe.

And the verdict?

Disgusting. Absolutely disgusting.

Imagine slurping on a chilled martini glass filled with watery liquid Crest toothpaste (to which one has added a healthy dose of pureed raisins) and you get the idea.

The stinger will not be made again, by us, unless we are forced to do so at gunpoint.

Thursday, November 15, 2007

I get that a lot, which is funny, because I'm not Jewish (ethnically or otherwise).

I did spend half of my childhood in a Jewish neighborhood, however, and it did affect my mannerisms. From my experience, when people tell me I "look Jewish" (ugh! What does THAT mean?) I find they really mean I "act Jewish."

What brings this up? A short meeting I had with a co-worker, who happens to be a naturalized citizen originally from the other side of the world.

He was nervous as he asked it, which sent up a red flag for me. I also knew, as he asked it, that if I told him I held no religious convictions he would think even less of me than if I were a Jew.

So I used my pat answer when confronted by potential religious bigots in the workplace: "I was raised Catholic."

Which is true, but you would be surprised how rarely I am asked to clarify that statement.

Or maybe you would not be surprised.

I don't always hide behind that answer. I did admit to one co-worker - a Muslim - that I am an atheist. He was surprised.

"How can you be an atheist?" He declared. "You're the most open-minded and moral person at work!"

Yeah, imagine that.

Anyway, back to the tale my other co-worker, who was concerned about my potentially Semitic heritage. I gave him my pat answer and he breathed a huge sigh of relief and laughed. He told me how my hair, nose and "way of talking" made me seem Jewish to him. He apologized. I told him I was not the least bit offended, and that I would not have been offended had I actually been Jewish.

But if I had been Jewish, I would have been deeply suspicious of him. And it turns out with good reason.

For the next fifteen minutes I was entreated to a rant about his Jewish neighbors and their spending habits, and an elicitation of stereotypes about... Greeks...?

I stopped my co-worker and asked him to clarify: was he talking about Jews, Greeks, or Greek Jews?

He looked at me, a little confused, and said: "Aren't all Greeks Jews?"

That gave me pause. I strongly recommended he keep his views to himself because we do have some Jews and, yes, Greek Orthodox Christians, on staff, and that they would take offense to some of the things he was saying.

His eyes went wide when I mentioned we had Jews on staff. He also asked me to explain what "Greek Orthodox" means. Thankfully, he did not ask me to name any of the Jews on staff. I'm sure he can find that out from someone else, anyway...

What did I learn from this? The anti-Semitic jokes in the movie Borat are not really jokes. People really do seem to believe such extreme, richly horsefeathered nonesense.

Tuesday, November 13, 2007

I'm working through the back catalog of cocktails to bring everyone up to speed.

After the disappointment of the Shirley Temple we found ourselves rewarded with this variant of the venerable martini: the boomerang.

It's basically a classic gin martini with the addition of a dash of bitters and a dash of maraschino cherry juice. Deceptively simple sounding, but it creates a whole host of complex flavors that left us pondering long after the last few drops found their way to our tongue.

On first try, we found the earthy accents of the additional ingredients a bit confusing. After careful consideration, we decided we were needing to get past the whole "martini plus additives" notion if we were to truly evaluate this drink on its own merits.

And so, after the second one, we loved them!

We tried making boomerangs with both Angostura and Peychaud's bitters. While I generally prefer the lighter, more complex flavor of Peychaud's, we both agree Angostura makes for the superior boomerang.

Make one for yourselves and let us know what you think.

And no, I'm not a friggin' shill for the military-bitters industrial complex. I just happen to like cocktails.